


Love Potion No. 9

by sunkelles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Double Date, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Het, Humor, Renaissance Faires, Romantic Comedy, love potions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:03:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4136787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkelles/pseuds/sunkelles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That one where Jeyne forces Sansa and Margaery, who aren't dating, to go on a double date to a Renaissance Fair with her and Theon. Cosplay, tomatoes, love potions, and romantic comedy tropes ensue in this fic that's not exactly meant to be taken seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Potion No. 9

**Author's Note:**

> Based very loosely off of the song "Love Potion No. 9" by the Clovers.

Sansa’s half asleep on the sofa when Jeyne bounds into their apartment at four thirty in the afternoon. She groans as Jeyne turns on the light and sits down on the fading, red recliner situated right beside the tattered plaid couch.

 

“What do you want,” Sansa mumbles, as she forces herself to at least sit up against the arm of the chair.

“Will you go to the Renaissance Fair with me on Saturday?” Jeyne says, as she turns her pleading, brown puppy dog eyes on her.

“Why?” Sansa asks, “can’t you go with Beth or something?”

“I sort of already told Theon that you’d come,” Jeyne says sheepishly.

“Theon?” Sansa asks in shock. She pauses a moment, and then asks, “are you seriously asking me to third wheel?”

“We’re only talking,” Jeyne says, though she sounds disappointed by this fact. Sansa knows that she has a huge crush on Theon, though Sansa can’t imagine why.

“Then why do I have to come?” Sansa demands.

"You're friends with both of us," Jeyne reasons. 

"Yes," Sansa admits. 

“And I told him we’d double,” Jeyne adds sheepishly.

“Wait?” Sansa says, “double? Who would I double with?”

“I was thinking you’d ask Margaery,” Jeyne says.

“Margaery and I aren’t dating,” Sansa says sadly. She decided to try to distance herself from the other girl a few weeks ago, to avoid falling further in love with a girl so thoroughly far out of her league.

“Please ask her,” Jeyne says.

Sansa stares her friend down and says, “No, Jeyne. I am not asking Margaery to go on a date with me.” She doesn’t even know if the other girl’s actually gay, or if she’s just really flirty by nature. Sansa’s fallen in love with enough straight girls for one lifetime.

“I know that you like her,” Jeyne says, “this would be a good chance to get to know her. They say that love blooms at Ren Fairs.”

“Beth hooking up with a really good-looking guy dressed as King Arthur at a Ren Fair one time does not mean that they all have some sort of romantic magic,” Sansa tells her.

Jeyne looks her in the eyes and asks, “Please, Sansa.”

“Jeyne-” Sansa says. 

“I can’t do this without you,” Jeyne says, and she looks so desperate. Jeyne’s been her best friend since kindergarten, and Sansa’s never been able to say no to her.

She says, “Fine.” Jeyne squeals and thanks her, and asks her what she should wear, but Sansa has already put the pillow over her head. If Jeyne gets her double date, then Sansa gets to go the fuck back to sleep.

 

 

When she wakes up at about eight o'clock, Sansa decides that she probably needs to call Margaery. She groans as she forces herself to a sitting position, and then gropes for her phone on the side table, ripping it off the charger. Sansa waits a few minutes, holding the phone in her hands and starring at her contact for Margaery. She has to mentally prepare to basically ask the girl she’s been crushing on for months to go on a double date with her.

 

“Hey, Margaery,” Sansa says quickly, “this is Sansa.”

“Sansa!” The other girl squeals over the phone, “we haven’t talked in forever! How have you been!?”

“Fine, actually,” Sansa says, and she takes a deep breath.

“Are you alright?” Marg asks, “because you sound sort of nervous.”

“Sorry,” Sansa says, “it’s just- Jeyne wanted to go to the Ren Fair with Theon, and she sort of told him that we’d double with them.”

“Double date?” Margaery says, and she almost sounds excited. Sansa tries not to get her hopes up at that.

“It doesn’t have to be a date,” Sansa says, “if you don’t want it to be.”

“Of course,” Margaery says, sounding a bit like a deflated balloon, “we’ll go with them, as friends.”

“What time are we going?” Margaery asks quickly, “and where are we meeting?”

“We were going to meet at ten thirty on Saturday at Jeyne and I’s apartment,” Sansa says, “then Jeyne was going to drive us. That’s the plan right now, at least.”

“Sounds good,” Margaery says, and Sansa tries to ignore how saccharine the other girl’s tone of voice sounds.

“Bye Marg,” Sansa says. She wants to talk to the other girl more, but her stomach always ties itself in knots when she does. It’s better to try to avoid the girl at all costs.

God, she wishes that Jeyne wouldn’t have dragged her into this.

“Bye, Sansa,” Margaery says, “I’ll see you Saturday.” Then, the line goes dead. Sansa tries not to be disappointed by this.

* * *

 

 

The next few days of classes pass quickly, and suddenly it’s Saturday morning. Sansa wakes up early in the morning and takes a shower, and does a little makeup as well. The part of her that wants to impress Margaery overrides the part of her that wants to stop giving a shit.  

 

Theon shows up first, and picks Jeyne up for a weird kiss-hug combo, which is apparently something that couples who are “just talking” do nowadays. Sansa browses twitter on her phone, and plays a quick round of 2048 as she waits for the fourth member of their party to arrive.

When Margaery arrives, they all descend the outdoor stairs. 

“Shot gun!” Sansa calls, and Theon looks pleadingly to Jeyne.

“She called shot gun,” Jeyne says, “those are the rules.” Theon grumbles as they walk out to the car, and Margaery sends her a pleading look as well. But Sansa opens up the passenger door to Jeyne’s aging, red Pontiac G6, and pulls the seat forward enough for Margaery and Theon to slip into what passes for a backseat in a two-door car.

 

“I hate you,” Theon mutters, and she can feel his knees digging into the back of her seat. She doesn’t feel all that bad about it. It’s not like Theon’s any taller than she is. Margaery doesn’t look as though she is having to squeeze, but she looks uncomfortable sitting next to the boy that she doesn’t know very well. Sansa feels a bit worse about that.

Jeyne starts her car, and hooks up her aux cord. Then she starts “Welcome to New York” and blasts half of Taylor Swift’s 1989 until they arrive at the fairgrounds. The actual, asphalt parking lot has already been filled, so Jeyne has to drive to the back of a field, one with muddy ruts and puddles of standing water. She finds the driest patch that she can, and parks the car. Sansa steps carefully out of the car, and finds that the grass beneath her feet, at least, is dry.

She pushes the seat forward, and Theon bounds out of the backseat so quickly that he almost falls on his face. Sansa has to help steady him. Margaery follows suit quickly enough, though she does it much more gracefully. They trek through the grass as the air gets progressively hotter and muggier, and have to swerve often to avoid mud puddles and literal puddles.

“I did not wear the right shoes for this,” Margaery says, and Sansa looks down at the other girl’s bejeweled sandals. She tries to stifle her laughter, but doesn’t really succeed.

“They are _cute_ ,” Margaery asserts, and Sansa can’t disagree with that. She lets the other girl have this point.

 

When they get up to the line for the ticket booth, Sansa realizes that she and her friends are outliers. Almost every other person in line is dressed in costume. Some are wearing dresses, others are dressed as fairies or knights, and Sansa thinks that she sees a few dressed in suits and bow ties.

“The Doctor?” Margaery asks, “they’re cosplaying the Doctor? At a Ren Fair?” Sansa has no idea what Margaery is referring to, and she’s afraid that her nerd card is going to be revoked. She doesn’t ask, though. She isn’t sure that she cares that much.

 

They talk about what basically amounts to nothing as they wait for forty five minutes in line, and watch people in elf ears and Lord of the Rings cosplay pass around them. Sansa sighs in relief as they finally get to the booth and buy their tickets, and then they finally grab a map and enter the fair. The little roads are made of solid mud, and the wooden shops that line them look like they’ve come straight out of a low dollar Disney World knockoff. It seems a lot like Disney world too, except for the abundance of boobs, and the places that sell alcohol, and the horrible smell that's like a combination of mud, rotting plants, grease, and enough cigarette smoke to give them all lung cancer.

They sit down at a picnic table on a thankfully grassy area and look over the map.

“There’s a joust at one, three, and five,” Margaery says.

“And a booth where you get to throw tomatoes,” Theon says.

“Oh,” Sansa says, “and there’s a place where you can spar with plastic swords.”

“The layout of the place is basically a circle,” Jeyne says, “why don’t we just work our way around it?” The others look among themselves, and then nod. They all decide that is probably the best course of action.

 

They stop in a little shop with corsets and hair accessories, and Sansa picks up a crown of red fabric roses. She places it on her head, and feels a little bit more like she’s supposed to be here. They pass a few musicians on the street, playing the flute or mandolin, and Sansa leaves a few coins in each of their baskets.

 

Jeyne demands that they enter a candles shop, and buys one for her mother, and another for Beth. Then they pass the booth where they sell tomatoes to throw at an employee, who insults you until you buy them.

 

Theon buys three tomatoes, and does not hit the man with any of them.

“Are you aiming for me,” the man taunts, “or the ground?” Theon buys three more, and throws them more forcefully this time. None of them come close to hitting their target.

“Theon,” Jeyne says, “you aren’t going to hit him. And that’s okay.”

“Sure it is!” the man says, “it just means that you wasted all your time and money.” Theon throws another three dollars onto the booth, and takes three more tomatoes.

“I am an archer, Jeyne,” he says, and then he tries to throw yet another tomato. And another. And another. None of them hit their target, and the people mulling about the booth have joined in with the man running the booth in laughter.

“I can hit him,” Theon says, but Jeyne looks him.

“Sure you can,” she says, “you don’t have to prove that.” Sansa has to stifle her giggles, and Margaery doesn’t bother to. Theon glares daggers at them, but does not buy any more tomatoes. That’s probably a lot better for them. He would have hit Margaery if he aimed for her. She was only a few feet away.

 

They pass a booth where a woman does palm readings, a booth where they sell swords, and another where women were braiding hair.

“Theon,” Sansa says, “we should get them to braid your hair.”

“Shut up,” he mutters, but Jeyne laughs so Sansa considers the comment a victory. They pass a few more, where they are making wax roses and selling paintings. They sit down and watch a show with a lot of sword-fighting, and a plot that Sansa thinks involves queen Elizabeth I legalizing piracy. She ends up really confused by the end.

 

Later, they pass a little shop called “Potions, Charms, and More!” that is housed in a small wooden building with what Sansa assumes is an artificially thatched roof.

“Potions and spells,” Margaery says, raising her eyebrows in a teasing manner, “let’s go in.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Jeyne says.

“Come on,” Theon says with a shit-eating grin, “you aren’t afraid of a little magic, are you?” Jeyne angrily accepts his challenge, and follows the other two into the shop. Sansa has her doubts as well, but doesn’t voice them. She doesn’t want to be made fun of for them. She walks through the rainbow, beaded overhang and enters the store.

The shop is dusty and dimly lit. The few lightbulbs jut directly out of the ceiling and flicker on and off, threatening to shut off for good. Sansa clutches her cellphone like a lifeline, knowing that she can pull it out to use as a flashlight if they do decide to die on them. Large wooden cabinets coat the walls of the establishment. Some shelves have herbal creams and remedies, and others are coated in incense. She passes these items quickly, and then comes to a line of pendants. They come in different shapes and sizes, and each is said to have a different enchantment. One for luck, one for love, one for wealth, and one for-

“Dexterity,” Theon says, grabbing the pendant that is shaped like an ancient Greek helmet.

“I bet that would be _useful,”_ he adds suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows at Jeyne.

“Dear god,” she mutters, looking away and trying not to blush. Sansa glares at him. She looks over the rest, and considers buying Margaery the rose pendant until she realizes that would probably be perceived as a romantic gesture. God, she wishes that she had the courage to just ask the other girl if she feels the same way about her as Sansa feels about her.

She floats around the rest of the shop, taking in the odd, fresh scents and eventually settling down beside Margaery. The other girl is starring intensely at vials sitting in front of the register. A large sign painted in bubble letters that make it look like a ten year old’s school art project is taped to the front of the wooden counter. After starring at the sign a few moments, Sansa can tell that the nearly illegible letters read “potions”.

“Potions?” Sansa asks. Margaery makes a startled face upon hearing her voice, but she steadies herself quickly enough.

“Yes,” Margaery says, “potions.” Sansa grabs a small, golden vial and reads the words that are written on the label.

“A potion for luck,” the opening line says, “for just twenty five dollars, you can have twenty four lucky hours.”

“A luck potion?” Sansa wonders aloud, “isn’t that like in Harry Potter?”

“Of course not,” a voice from behind the counter says. Sansa turns her head abruptly around to face a short woman with a small scowl sprawled across her face.

“Harry Potter is _fictional,”_ she asserts, “our potions are the _real deal.”_ Sansa doesn’t know how to respond to this, and she thinks that she giggles nervously under her breath. She truly hopes that the woman doesn’t hear that.

“I’m very sorry,” Margaery says, “my friend only meant that it sounded so impressive.”

“That’s what I thought,” the woman says, sliding her glasses up her nose. Margaery grabs a potion and looks over it carefully.

“I would like to make a purchase,” Margaery says.

“Really?” the woman asks, much too excitedly. Sansa can tell that people don’t buy her merchandise often.

“Yes,” Margaery says, “really.”

“We don’t take credit cards,” the woman asserts, perhaps a little too quickly. At this point, Sansa’s honestly a little worried that the potion may be laced with arsenic and period blood.

“I have cash,” Margaery says, taking her little black wallet out of her large, rose-printed purse. The woman hands Margaery a small, green informational card. Margaery picks it up.

“Be very careful with this,” the woman tells her, looking up through her glasses with her beady brown eyes.

“The magic is potent,” she adds, “make sure to read through all the warnings before you use it. Also, you can’t take it if you’re pregnant or allergic to peanuts.” Margaery clutches the vial and the green sheet of paper, and starts to walk out of the shop. Sansa starts to follow her.

“Oh yes,” the woman adds, which makes Margaery turn abruptly around, “the potion is to be taken _orally.”_

“Thank you,” Margaery says, and Sansa shutters to think of the other ways it could be ingested, “I will be careful.” They head quickly out of the shop, and as soon as they pass through the rainbow beads, they are back in the bright, midday sunshine.

 

After they leave the potion store, they end up at the “Ye Olde Pretzel Stand” and decide to have lunch. They all buy pops, Jeyne and Sansa buy a pretzel to share, Margaery gets a gigantic stick of cotton candy, and Theon buys an enormous turkey leg that frankly turns Sansa’s stomach. Sansa takes a sip of her Pepsi and breaks off a bit of the soft, salty pretzel. Jeyne opens up her Mountain Dew and follows suit.

“I still can’t believe that you bought two _thirty_ dollar candles,” Sansa tells her friend.

“When they melt you can use the wax as lotion,” Jeyne says, “ _lotion_. That’s like two gifts in one.“ After a few minutes, Sansa and Jeyne finish bantering, and Jeyne decides to include the rest of the group in the conversation.

“What did you buy, Margaery?” Jeyne asks.

“Love Potion Number Nine,” Margaery says cryptically.

“A love potion?” Sansa asks skeptically, “why would you want a _love_ potion?”

Margaery shrugs as she takes the vial and the sheet of paper out of her purse. She laughs, and crumples the piece of paper up. Then, she throws it to the nearest trashcan and makes a basket.

“You know,” Sansa says, “if you didn't make that, then it would have been littering.”

“But I did make it,” the other girl replies with a cocky little grin. Then, and she takes out the vial. She slowly removes the cork.

“What are you doing?” Sansa hisses.

“I think that it might be fun,” Margaery says, “it’s not like it’ll work.” Sansa glares at her, because on the off chance that it _does_ work, Sansa does not want to have to clean up Margaery’s mess for her. She’s seen enough weird sitcoms to realize that _bad_ things happen when people fall into artificially induced love.

“Marg,” Sansa says, and then her voice jumps up an octave in terror, “Marg” The other girl gulps down the potion quicker than Sansa can stop her. Jeyne and Theon exchange a confused look, and Margaery’s eyes settle across the table from them, on Theon.

"When did you get so hot?" Margaery asks loudly. 

"Um," he says awkwardly, "I guess I was born this way?" Jeyne sends Sansa a confused and mortified look. Margaery gracefully gets up from her spot next to Sansa, and slides to the other end of the table. Then she runs her fingers through Theon's hair. 

“Um, Margaery,” Theon says, and he sends a confused and concerned look Jeyne’s way.

Sansa laughs awkwardly, but then Margaery slips onto his lap and Jeyne lets out an angry, startled noise.

“You’ve had your fun, Marg,” Sansa says quickly, “you should stop now.” By this point, people are starring. People are starring, and Theon looks uncomfortable and aroused and she’s running hands through his hair in a way that _Sansa_ shouldn’t find attractive.

 

“You know,” she says, in a whisper that Sansa can barely make out, “men aren’t normally my type.” And if that doesn’t go straight to Sansa’s crotch, she doesn’t know what would. She kisses him, and Sansa finally acts. She grabs the smaller girl by the waist and hoists her off of Theon’s lap.

 

“You two,” Sansa says, inclining her head towards Jeyne, “go somewhere _far_ away. We’re going back to the shop.”

“But Theon!” Margaery shouts dramatically, “my love!”  Sansa actually groans at this, and holds Margaery back as Jeyne and Theon run in the opposite direction. Sansa grasps the other girl’s hand firmly.

“Come on Marg,” she mumbles.

“But Theon,” Margaery says.

“Will be excited to see you later,” Sansa says, trying to appeal to the crazy persona that this potion has created. The other girl’s face light up, and Sansa tries to drag her back along the muddy path.

 

It takes twenty minutes of Margaery trying to run away, and Sansa dragging her back onto the path to get back at the potions shop. Sansa shoves her inside, and then shouts, “Hey! I need to talk to someone!” The short woman who sold Margaery the potion walks out of the back of the store.

“Yes?” she asks.

“My friend took one of your love potions,” Sansa says, “she thought that it wouldn’t work. We need a cure.”

“Don’t you still have the information sheet?” the woman asks.

“No,” Sansa admits, “she threw it away.” The other woman tsks in response.

“You kids are so irresponsible with magic,” she says grandly, “you should not mess with things you do not believe in or understand.”

“Yeah,” Sansa says, “we’re sorry. I just need to know how to _fix_ her.”

“Do you remember which one she took?” the woman asks, “that is very important.”

“Number Nine,” Sansa says quickly.

“Oh,” the woman says, “you’re in luck. This one only lasts twenty four hours.”

“ _Twenty four hours?”_ Sansa demands, “she’s going to be like this for a whole day?”

“Unless you have someone that she is actually attracted to,” the woman adds, “if she is normally attracted to someone, a boyfriend or such, that person kissing her would break the spell.”

She remembers Margaery’s words: _men aren’t normally my type._ She tries to shake the thought away. There’s no way that Margaery’s actually attracted to her, even if she _does_ like girls.

“Where is Theon?” the potion-addled Margaery asks, and Sansa takes out her phone.

“I’m calling him right now,” she lies, and she dials Jeyne’s number instead.

“Sansa?” her friend asks, “where are you guys? Have you fixed her yet?”

“No,” Sansa says, “she’s going to be like this for a whole _day.”_

“A _day?”_ Jeyne shouts into the phone, and Sansa has to move it further away from her ear, “isn’t there some cure.”

“Well, yes,” Sansa says, “someone that Margaery actually does like has to kiss her.”

“God, Sansa,” Jeyne says, “that’s fantastic! Just kiss her and we’re done with this mess.”

“Margaery doesn’t like me,” Sansa says.

“I think that she does,” Jeyne says, “she looks at you the same way that you look at her.” That causes Sansa’s heart to beat like a humming bird’s wings.

"Really?" Sansa asks. 

“Really,” Jeyne says.

“But what if she doesn’t like me?” Sansa asks, “What then?”

“Then it doesn’t fix the spell,” Jeyne says exasperatedly.

“What if she finds out that I kissed her?” Sansa says, her panic creeping into high gear.

“Then she’ll appreciate that you _tried_ to help her,” Jeyne nearly shouts, “damn it, Sansa. Stop being such a coward and make a move. You’ll never able to make anything work if you don’t take a few risks.”

“Alright,” Sansa says, and she hangs up the phone. She drops it back in her purse, and feels adrenaline course through her veins. She’s going to kiss her crush, and either she’s going to break the spell or feel like an idiot.

 

Sansa can do this.

 

“Where is Theon,” Margaery demands, and Sansa bends down slightly to press a soft kiss against the other girl’s lips. Margaery kisses back for a moment, and then she breaks apart.

“Sansa? Wait, what?” she asks, looking as though she’s waking up from a deep sleep, “what happened?” Sansa laughs deeply and joyfully.

“What?” she asks.

“I broke the spell,” Sansa says, and Margaery looks even more confused.

“Remember?” she asks, “you drank that love potion?” Realization passes over the other girl.

“Oh my god,” Margaery says, turning as red as Sansa’s hair, “that worked?”

“Yes,” Sansa says, and she’s laughing really, really hard, “and I broke the spell. True attraction’s kiss.” Margaery blushes deeply.

“Um, yeah,” she says, “I am- I really, _really_ like you. So your kiss broke the spell?”

“Yes,” Sansa says, lightly biting her lip, “it did.”

“If you two aren’t going to buy some wedding charms,” the woman behind the counter drawls, “you’d best get out of my shop.” Sansa looks to Margaery and giggles, and then the other girl takes her hand. They run through the muddy streets, and find a picnic table under a tree where they can sit together and talk.

 

“Who did I fall in love with?” Margaery asks fearfully.

“Theon,” Sansa says, starting to laugh all over again.

“Oh my god,” Margaery says, looking embarrassed and a little disgusted, “how did that happen? I'm a  _lesbian."_ She throws out the word so freely now that Sansa's a bit irritated she couldn't have said it earlier. 

“Love potions apparently don’t ask for your sexual preference,” Sansa jokes. She’s bi, so she supposes it wouldn’t have made all that much difference who she fell in love with. Except for the fact that Theon is Theon, and she couldn’t imagine ever dating him.

“I can’t believe that I did that,” Margaery says, “that was _so_ stupid.”

“You kissed him,” Sansa says, and she can’t keep herself from laughing.

“I think I need to sear my lips off,” Margaery mutters.

“Or,” Sansa says softly, cautiously, “you could just kiss _me_ again.” Margaery cracks a grin at that, and kisses Sansa softly on the lips.

“I could get used to this,” she murmurs, as she lies her head against Sansa’s shoulder. They sit together like that for a moment, just watching people walk by and taking in the feeling of being together. 

“How am I _ever_ going to be able to look at either of them again?” Margaery asks.

“You straddled him too,” Sansa adds.

“Oh my _god,”_ Margaery says, digging her head into her hands, “I will never be able to look at either of them _ever_ again. I should just stay here forever.”

“There’s plenty of parts that you could play in the shows,” Sansa jokes, “you’d make a pretty good Anne Boleyn.” They pause for a moment, sitting on the hill and holding hands.

“Please sit in the back with me,” Margaery asks, “I don’t think that I could survive the thirty minute car ride beside Theon.”

“Alright,” Sansa says, “but would you answer one question for me?”

Margaery sends her a confused look as she says, "Of course." 

“Why did you take that potion anyways?” Sansa asks seriously. Margaery blushes a little, and then looks away.

“It’s embarrassing,” she says. Sansa nudges her gently, and then the other girl takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t think that it would work,” she says, “and I thought, well, I thought that I could pretend that it did.”

“What?” Sansa asks, because that answers fewer questions than it raises.

“I wanted to pretend to be in love with you,” she says, as her face turns from a light shade of pink to scarlet, “and then see how you reacted.”

“Oh my god,” Sansa says softly. She doesn’t really know how to react.

“I’m sorry,” Margaery says quickly , “it was stupid and sneaky and-“

“That’s sort of cute,” Sansa interrupts, and she sends the other girl a winning smile. The other girl grasps her hand.

“We’re girlfriends now, right?” she asks.

“Of course,” Sansa says. She can see that the sun is starting to go down, and she sighs.

“We should find Jeyne and Theon,” she murmurs. Margaery sighs, but Sansa stands up.

“Jeyne’s our ride,” Sansa tells her. Margaery sighs even more loudly at that, and holds out her hands for Sansa to help her up.  This time, it’s Sansa’s turn to sigh.

“You are _so_ lazy,” Sansa says. Marg just shrugs, and wipes the dirt off her designer shorts.

 

They all meet near the entrance of the park, and don’t speak as they make the trek back to where Jeyne parked. Sansa moves the passenger seat forward, and then Margaery slips in. Sansa follows her, and then Theon sits down in the passenger seat. Jeyne hooks up her aux cord, and starts playing “Girlfriend" by Avril Lavigne. Her friend must be taking it fairly well, she supposes. 

They drive for nearly twenty minutes, listening to Jeyne's sugary pop music in silence before anyone speaks. 

 

 

Then, Margaery sends the other people in the car a shit-eating grin, and Sansa can sense that she’s decided to take the experience into her own hands.

“I wonder what would happen with Love Potion Number Ten?” Margaery asks. Theon turns bright red in the passenger seat, and Jeyne physically turns back while she’s driving to glare at her.

“Look at the road!” Theon yells, and Sansa busts up laughing. Margaery follows suit, and pretty soon they’re all laughing hard, the sort of laugh that’s hard to stop doing once you’ve started.

 

And Sansa knows that they’re all wondering how they’ll ever tell this story without sounding like lunatics.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: Sophie Turner and Alfie Allen (who play Sansa and Theon respectively on the show) are both 5'9", so my comment that I pulled out of my ass about Theon not being any taller than Sansa isn't incorrect. 
> 
> Cool


End file.
